


down by the waters

by firenoodles



Category: Hannibal (TV), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Stiles, Canon-Typical Violence, Emissary Stiles Stilinski, Established Relationship, FBI Agent Stiles Stilinski, Hannibal is irked, Jack is irked, M/M, Magical stiles, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Stiles and Will are cousins, The pack is just confused, Usual warnings for Teen Wolf and Hannibal, Vaguely follows the events of Teen Wolf, but changes have been made
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:34:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25007800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firenoodles/pseuds/firenoodles
Summary: Stiles Stilinski is four years old when he first meets his cousin, Will Graham.He's nine years old when he sees him again for a summer and he's twenty four when he joins Will in the FBI and he meets Hannibal Lecter.
Relationships: Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 47
Kudos: 378





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon divergent from Teen Wolf season 3B onward and the entirety of Hannibal Season 1 will be tweaked.
> 
> Everyone's alive and Stiles is officially an agent and uses his connections through Chris Argent to get his way.
> 
> References are made for things that happen past season 4 of Teen Wolf, but no details since I haven't watched anything past that (woops).

Stiles Stilinski was four years old when he first met his cousin, Will Graham.

The adults had been talking out in the living room, reminiscing, as Will sat with his cousin on the floor of the spare bedroom, Stiles’ tongue poking out between his teeth as he concentrated on the task before him.

Will only laughed softly while Stiles fumbled with the dull scissors in his hands. The older boy brushed tufts of discarded hair off of his lap as he sat cross-legged on a worn out rug. He’d never realized just how much hair he seemed to have. 

“We have to match, Will!” Stiles whined as he haphazardly snipped off another chunk of hair, disappointed to see that no matter how well he cut, the hair left was never as short as his own.

“I know. Here,” Will replied before he slowly turned around and eased the scissors out of his baby cousin’s hands, “let me ask my dad for his electric razor.” 

Sniffling, Stiles wiped at his nose and followed Will out hand-in-hand into the living room where the adults fell silent at the sight of fourteen year old Will looking sheepish with his hack job haircut.

“Dad, can we borrow your razor? We can’t get short enough with scissors.” Will ran a hand roughly through the choppy remainder of his previously thick head of curls as the adults looked at them, amused.

“Oh honey… You didn’t have to let him do that.” Claudia Stilinski nee Graham sighed, long-suffering but overwhelmingly fond, as she stood up and followed her brother into the bathroom, leaning against the doorway as Henry Graham obligingly lowered his hair cutting kit down from the top shelf before walking Stiles through how to use it. Will just shrugged, a small smile still on his face as he watched Stiles scrunch his nose up while trying to keep hold of the razor in his too small hands. He lowered himself onto the tiled floor obligingly as the younger boy clambered onto the covered toilet and beckoned him to scoot back. 

“It’s okay, Aunt Claudia. I don’t mind.” 

And he really didn’t mind. Especially not after Stiles had spent the evening after a pleasant dinner sniffling into his pillow about the kids at school making fun of him for how he looked with his newly buzzed hair. Intimately familiar with how cruel kids could be at such a young age, it hadn’t taken much for Will to understand.

Stiles was, after all, his favorite cousin. And being around him came much easier to Will than being around anyone else. The little boy had a soothing presence about him, even with the overabundance of buzzing energy Stiles possessed. While his empathy disorder caused so many pressing personalities and thoughts to crowd around the older boy’s perception, vying for attention and understanding, something about Stiles’ was so wholly and unequivocally unique that Will had no trouble simply turning his attention away. With other people, he struggled to detach their thoughts, their perspectives, from his, sometimes leading to moments when he was unsure of where he ended and where someone else began. Will met Stiles’ eyes easily and he could relax while it was just the two of them. 

Grabbing the scissors off of his desk and telling Stiles to start cutting had been an easy thing. It was worth it especially to see his little cousin’s eyes go wide and happy as his hands reached out tentatively to hold onto the handles of the tool being held out to him.

The rest of the Stilinskis’ visit to Louisiana flew by pleasantly after that. Will’s newly buzzed hair was a pleasant change in the sweltering heat; an unintended benefit to the whole incident. And every time he caught Stiles looking wonderingly up at him with his identical short hair, Will couldn't help the pleased grin that crept up on his face. 

He would never admit it to his dad, but Will was sad when Stiles left at the end of the week, his walls coming back up around his mind as the Stilinski trio flew back to Beacon Hills. While Will had never thought much on the subject of siblings, having Stiles around had been a welcome change. It'd been nice to have someone look up to him and rely on him without any big expectations. 

.

Stiles is nine years old when he meets Will Graham again. 

Stiles is nine years old and suffering after the death of his mother and the subsequent downwards spiral of his father when he steps foot in a small Louisiana airport to be picked up by his uncle. 

He vaguely remembered Henry Graham, his soft-spoken and often distant uncle.

He remembered stifling nights full of soft lantern light, the surprisingly deafening cacophony of the wildlife of the bayou at night, and the joyous laughter and conversations as his mom, his dad, and his uncle sat around on the porch or in the living room catching up as their sons retreated to other rooms, feet pounding on the floors as they played any and all games that came to mind. He remembers dull scissors, the buzz of an electric razor and the bright sounds of joy as Will had hugged him and let him bawl into his shoulder in gratitude.

His mom had sighed and bemoaned the loss of Will’s beautiful, curly hair even as her eyes filled with tears as she watched both of them rub each other’s heads. But now his mom’s dead and his dad’s turned to his bottles. Other relatives had stepped in and intervened when they heard John Stilinski yelling in the background of a phone call that Stiles had picked up. Stiles tried his best to not let them hear the shakiness in his voice through the lines but it hadn't been enough.

His relatives stepping in meant his dad was carted off to get help for his alcoholism and Stiles was sent away.

And where better to send him off to than to a family that had survived and clawed their way into stability without their own matriarch. Stiles knew that Will had gone off to university and was planning to attend the police academy afterwards, thriving in the academic environment that was worlds away from the quiet life of fishing and boating in rural Louisiana. 

“How’re you doing, kiddo?” A hand landed on his shoulder lightly jostling him out of his thoughts as another gently eased the handle of his rolling suitcase out of his hands. Stiles shrugged, his thoughts still on his dad back home. His hands clutched on tighter to the straps of his backpack. His dad had packed the backpack for him, both of the Stilinskis quiet as they rolled shirts and collected toiletries from the bathroom. 

He hadn’t wanted to leave. They were doing fine on their own. It wasn’t like his dad was hurting him. He was just a bit louder; his words a bit more hurtful. A little more spiteful. But Stiles knew he hadn't meant it. They were just both hurting and showing it in their own ways; Stiles through his panic attacks and John through his drinking.

But Stiles was taking care of him.

 _He was taking care of it._ He’d promised his mom that he would watch over his dad during some of her last moments of lucidity and being sent away felt like a failure. They needed to stick together now that it was just the two of them. And yet here he was, being helped into a truck in the sweltering Louisiana heat having just stepped off a flight he had taken on his own. 

“Will’s home so you can see him again when we get there. He’s been looking forward to seeing you again.” The other man’s voice was deep but quietly so, almost like a rumble of sound barely registering as words. His accent was thick but soothing, nothing having changed from the last time he had come to visit. His mom’s accent had always leaked out when she was frustrated or excited. 

God, he missed her.

Stiles just nodded in response. 

Thankfully, Henry Graham wasn't the type to keep trying to make conversation from someone clearly unwilling. For just over the hour it took from the Louis Armstrong New Orleans International Airport to the remote bayou counties of southern Louisiana, Stiles rested his head on his window, looking out at the strange landscape. The air was molasses thick just as it had been several years ago, but this time it was uncomfortable without the soothing presence of his parents at his shoulders, the humidity pressing down on his already heavy chest. 

Suffocating. 

Summers in New Orleans were tough. Stiles wondered how his mom had grown up here, in this strange land. And he wondered if he’d have to grow up along the winding waters of the south after all. Who knew how long he’d be living with the Grahams. They had told him he could come back within three months if everything went smoothly.

Turning the windows down did nothing to alleviate the restrictive feeling around his chest and even more sweat pooled above his lips, down his neck, and around his hairline with the buffeting of hot air on his face. 

“Sorry, the air isn’t working.” Henry grimaced, looking truly apologetic as he glanced at his nephew slouched down in his seat. His only response was another short nod. 

Sighing, Henry turned his attention back onto the road and Stiles let his head fall, letting the rumble of the engine lull him to sleep. His consciousness drifted away to thoughts of warm Sunday mornings, frogs croaking incessantly along the waters at night, and harsh words spat out over the lip of a steadily depleted bottle of alcohol.

John always apologized once he was sober, but Stiles hated it. Hated when the lucidity swam back into his dad’s eyes and he crouched in front of his son, voice thick and wobbling with the tears spilling down his face. Hated seeing his dad cry because of him. 

And as the car jerked over rougher roads and bumped along on the way back to the Graham residence, Stiles sighed. He should try to make the best of his situation as he could. After all, he did miss Will and he looked forward to spending time in his soothing presence. 

As much as he hated being away from his dad and Beacon Hills, Stiles knew that it wasn't either of the Grahams' faults. Sinking deeper into his thoughts, Stiles watched the Louisiana landscape blur past. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise, another chapter because I thought why not. Uploads will definitely be slower after this since I had the first two chapters written beforehand.
> 
> Changed the ratings to T because I realized I didn't really have any plans for this fic that required an M rating?
> 
> Might change as this goes on, but we'll see! And I'll post a heads up before anything drastic!

Will remembers Aunt Claudia fondly. He remembers how her eyes had always been so warm and kind when she looked at him, always sparkling with joy in a way his dad's hadn't in so long. How her amber eyes looked just like his father’s. A recessive gene somewhere meant Will had been born with his grandmother's steely blues and sometimes he felt robbed of that same warmth, his own eyes cold and almost grey. 

She would often sit him down at the kitchen table with her when they were both up and about in the early mornings while the others slept for a couple hours more. She knew he had trouble sleeping and he knew she savored the biting chill and fresh air of the mornings and how stillness seemed to sink into the wooden walls of the house. They had taken refuge in their shared routines, both sipping quietly on their morning cups of tea or orange juice as they murmured quietly about one thing or another. 

Will regretted not attending the funeral, but all that mourning would have spelled disaster for his keen mind. 

As he went about tidying the guest room, Will wondered what Stiles was like now. They had rarely talked after the Stilinski's had briefly visited when the younger boy had been four. At that age, Stiles had been a bright kid, always bouncing off the walls and smiles always at the ready. Will had readily slid into the role of a caretaker, helping remind Stiles of his daily medication and dutifully cleaning up after his messes. But after they had left, Will had assumed that no news was good news and gone on with navigating high school while overwhelmed with teenage hormones. The adults had called and passed messages along, but Will had been busy focusing on getting through school with his empathy and being as normal as can be. He doubted the boy even remembered his weird cousin who had let him sheer his hair off one balmy night. 

Looking around the room with his hands on his hips, Will sighed. Everything still seemed so dusty and untouched. The Grahams hadn’t had much use for the guest room, both men leading solitary lives. But Stiles would be living with them for maybe longer than the summer, so Will hoped he’d at least be comfortable enough to deck the room out as he saw fit. Give it a little more of his own personality. He doubted Will's tastes at twenty would suit the kid.

While Will hadn't expected to spend the summer before finishing up his criminal justice degree helping accommodate his grieving younger cousin, Will was glad to be home and to have a chance to see Stiles again. 

Hearing the rumbling engine making its way towards the house, Will dusted his hands off and grabbed the broom and dustpan next to the door before heading down the stairs and out the door to greet Stiles and his dad. Dropping the cleaning tools in the kitchen as he passed by, Will waved at the two figures stumbling out of the car.

“Hey, Stiles.” Will gave his cousin a small smile as the boy hauled a backpack out of the backseat area. Throwing a quick nod at his own dad, Will walked down the driveway to give Stiles a quick squeeze around the shoulder, taking note of how stiff the younger boy was. 

“Hey.” Stiles fidgeted as he looked at the ground, both hands clutching at the straps of his backpack as he stood around awkwardly, unsure.

“Let’s head in and get you settled in,” Will nudged Stiles’ shoulder to guide him towards the front door as his dad followed behind with the rest of Stiles’ stuff.

“How’s it been in Beacon Hills?” 

The trio clambered up towards the house and towards the blessed air conditioning as Stiles just gave an ambiguous shrug in answer, face screwing up into an unpleasant expression. 

“Just.. nothing really.” 

The Graham men exchanged glances over Stiles’ head. They had agreed to steer clear from Claudia’s passing and John’s alcoholism while Stiles was here until the younger boy felt comfortable bringing it up himself.

Nudging the front door open, Will noted, "Be careful with the door. Biscuit's always trying to get out." Keeping an eye on their senior dog, Will moved aside for Stiles to follow, nudging some shoes out of the way of the entryway so that Stiles could have a space for his shoes. The abundance of mud and dirt outside their small house meant no shoes past the front door. 

Stiles gasped quietly, his eyes fixed on the dog whose tail was swinging wildly back and forth as a graying snout sniffed eagerly at Stiles’ sneakers. Having taken the wandering dog in two years ago, Stiles hadn't had the chance to meet him during his previous visit with his parent. 

“Hey, Biscuit. Sit, boy. Sit.” Will patted the old retriever behind the ears, smiling as the wriggling butt planted itself on the floor, waiting impatiently for introductions. His snout was scenting the air furiously, stretching comically towards Stiles while keeping his paws planted where they were. Will, grinning as he noticed Stiles’ hands twitching with the need to reach forward, said “Stiles this is Biscuit. Biscuit, Stiles. Be gentle, he’s an old man now. Just put your hand out for him to smell and get used to you. But don’t worry he’s a gentle old man.”

Vibrating with excitement, Stiles slowly offered his hand with his palm up for Biscuit to sniff which he did with gusto. Beaming, Stiles gazed up at Will for permission and his cousin grinned and nodded. At that, Stiles darted forward, his hands running reverently over the old dog’s fur. 

Will and Henry sighed in relief. The stilted conversations and lack of responses had worried them. Stiles had always been a bright, rambunctious boy and the reticence was unsettling. It was good to know that the presence of the dog would help settle Stiles into the new environment and maybe take his mind off of everything going on back in Beacon Hills. Maybe they wouldn't regret taking in the young boy for a short period after all.

-

Stiles settled in nicely, prone to moments of melancholy and stubborn quiet every once in a while, but otherwise happy and content living with the Grahams. He had scheduled calls with his dad every Wednesday night during which the Grahams would retreat into the kitchen to give him some privacy in the hallway. They made it a habit to whip up increasingly demanding fish dishes in an effort to cheer Stiles up after his calls every week. While the Grahams didn't have much in terms of finances, they were used to providing for themselves and scrounging up their own ingredients as needed and they did the best with what they had. 

They took him along on their fishing trips, teaching and instilling a stillness and focus into Stiles that he struggled to grasp anywhere else. Will had even confided in his cousin about his habit of mentally placing himself into the gentle waters, casting his line when he was feeling overwhelmed and in need of a reprieve from everything he took in while studying criminals and crime in general. Stiles had tried to incorporate it into his own responses to oncoming panic attacks with varying levels of success. 

Stiles may have been young, but he’d been forced to grow up faster than anyone else around him. As such, Will never felt the need to censor himself or skirt around serious topics with him. It’d always been like that with Stiles and Will. The sense of camaraderie and understanding the two shared had always baffled the adults around them. Being around Stiles made Will seem younger than he was, while being around Will highlighted how Stiles often seemed beyond his years.

Sometimes, Henry would watch as Stiles would laugh and talk, barely letting Will get a word in, and wait for the older boy to snap and retreat back into himself as he tended to do. But it never happened. Sometimes, it’d be Will talking softly about one thing or another with Stiles uncharacteristically quiet and attentive next to him, his voice equally soft when asking questions with barely audible interjections. Oftentimes, the two could be found sitting around the dining table, case files spread across the surface as they both poured over every detail as Will walked his cousin through the steps of how one case had been solved and then another.

Henry enjoyed having his young nephew around to act as a bridge between father and son who had drifted apart and forgotten how to talk comfortably around each other. The younger boy brought such bright joy and energy into the house that had grown stagnant, especially with Will’s departure after graduating high school. While Henry and Will had always been content to stick to themselves and employ their own gruff shows of familial affection and understanding, Stiles pushed them to employ their words, conversation flowing much easier than it had in years.

It had taken a week or two for Stiles to really relax and accept his circumstances, but the weeks seemed to blur after that. The Grahams had left him alone for those first few days, figuring space was the best thing they could give him as the young boy adjusted. They watched as day by day, Stiles seemed to take comfort in being away from home and everything Claudia's sudden death had kicked off. The tension in his shoulders bled out slowly and every morning greeting at Biscuit increased in exuberance and joy. 

But it seemed to go by much too fast and before any of the three knew it, Stiles was already packing all of his luggage back into his bags, along with all the random bits and belongings he’d managed to pick up during his stay, ready to head back to his newly discharged dad and Beacon Hills. 

While they had all known that Stiles was probably not staying forever as no one had doubted John Stilinski’s ability to recover from his alcoholism for the sake of his son, it still seemed much too quick of a summer.

Three months. 

That’s all it had taken for Stiles to feel like part of the small family; like he belonged there. 

And Stiles was just as sad to leave. Sad to leave the soft-spoken Graham men and their loyal Biscuit. Sad knowing that Henry would be all alone in the house while Will headed back to university and then onto the police academy. Sad knowing that he’d probably not be coming back to the sleepy lakeside towns of Louisiana for quite a while. But there was a sense of peace that had settled over him after having had time to properly grieve for his mother and having talked for long hours with the Graham men about how they had coped with the loss of their wife and mother. Something that he could have never done back at home with John so deep in the bottles. 

The little ramshackle house on the edge of the bayou had taken stake in his heart as a second home. 

He and Will promised to diligently keep in touch through email. Stiles was adamant that Will should know all that was going on in his last few years at elementary school and Will had just chuckled good-naturedly and assured his younger cousin that he would reply with stories of his own day-to-day. He knew, though, that the frequency would drop once Stiles settled back into his life. 

“Make sure to keep in touch,” Henry Graham huffed as he ruffled Stiles’ hair affectionately. 

Beaming, Stiles nodded as he hopped from one foot to another. 

“Don’t forget to pet Biscuit for me everyday!” Stiles returned, face scrunching up in a faux scowl. He had taken up the routine of giving the elderly dog a thorough petting every morning and night as the first and last things he did as he lived with them and he was eager to see it continued in his absence.

Will huffed, “You’ve spoiled that dog way too much.” 

Before Stiles could reply, Will dug a couple flannels out of the bag he had brought with him and shoved them into Stiles’ arms. Curious, the younger cousin looked at the clothes in his arms, gasping as he realized that they were a stack of his favorite flannels. His favorite flannels that he’d steal from Will’s closet every week, only to have them placed back after every laundry day. Each one was soft and worn out with how often Will had worn them, easily some of Will's oldest and most weathered articles of clothing. 

Seeing Stiles' watering eyes and wobbling lips just made Will grin. 

"What, did you think your favorite cousin would let you leave without something to take with you back home?" Will teased as Stiles slammed into his waiting arms, wrapping his own arms tight in a crushing embrace. Henry just chuckled as he watched the two boys, giving Stiles a few good thumps on the back as the intercoms announced the flights preparing to board. 

"Thank you," Stiles warbled, his voice high and breaking as he choked back tears. Staying with Will and Henry had been a blessing in disguise for the younger boy. Something about the calm life in the little house on the shores had settled something deep in Stiles' bones and the Grahams reminded him of his mother, soothing some hurt he had been carrying around since her death. Knowing that something connected to her would always be there for him had helped calm some of the raging anger and confusion. While he still had a long ways to go until he fully moved on, staying with his uncle and cousin had helped kick off his healing process. Maybe he'd recommend John make a trip out sometime in the future. Louisiana had helped Stiles grieve and start the process of moving on. Maybe it'd help the Sheriff as well.

He kept looking back over his shoulder the whole walk into the terminal, eyes seeking out the last glimpses of his cousin and his uncle he could catch while the air staff who were aware of his situation tutted over him and herded him away. 

While he had done it before, taking a flight by himself was nerve-wracking and the doting flight attendants barely helped. Instead, he took comfort in draping one of Will's dog-covered flannels over himself and snuggling into his seat as much as he could, pulling the provided earphones on and drowning out the sounds of the plane. Soon he'd be back with his dad in Beacon Hills and he'd be able to play with Scott again. But he couldn't help the yearning for Biscuit and the soothing waters of Louisiana far away from the bleak reminder of what he had lost. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't actually know that details of what happens in Teen Wolf after the dead pool events, so I'll be glossing over details.
> 
> Also in this verse, everyone stayed in Beacon Hills and is still alive (this includes Allison, Boyd, and Erica) which leads to some changes in canon events like the Alpha pack and Nogitsune, but assume everything stays almost the same. Derek never left with Braeden and he never lost his alpha spark. He and Scott are co-alphas. 
> 
> And I'm ignoring Scott/Malia bc ooof.

_To: <willgraham@ic.fbi.gov>_

_From: <mstilinski@outlook.com>_

_Subject: RE:RE:RE: virigina, here i come!_

_My flight's due to land at around 9AM. Think you can swing by to pick me up? Or should I grab a taxi?_

_And send me your new address if you can't pick me up!_

_To: <mstilinski@outlook.com>_

_From: <willgraham@ic.fbi.gov>_

_Subject: RE:RE:RE:RE: Virigina, Here I Come!_

_I can swing by to pick you up then. Might be a tight fit so you can start your duties right away since I'll have to head to Quantico straight from the airport._

_Hope you're ready to start as soon as you arrive._

_To: <willgraham@ic.fbi.gov>_

_From: <mstilinski@outlook.com>_

_Subject: RE:RE:RE:RE:RE: Virigina, Here I Come!_

_i hope you know ur evil._

-

Groaning, Stiles stepped off the plane with his carry-on bag slung over his shoulder as he followed along with the rest of the departing passengers, all of them eager to reach baggage claim and leave the airport. Thinking back on the last couple of emails he had received from Will, Stiles sighed. All he wanted after the cramped flight was to flop onto whatever soft furniture his cousin had available and to sleep until the next day dawned. And a shower. Stiles desperately wanted a shower.

But he was eager to see Will again. Humming, Stiles realized this would be the first time the two had seen each other where both of the men would be adults. While their emails and communications had been sporadic, especially with Stiles' penchant for disappearing for days on end, they had been frequent. 

After that summer in Louisiana years ago, Stiles hadn't had a chance to visit with his older cousin regardless of his many attempts to plan a quick trip almost every summer. Even during his internship program, Stiles had been busy juggling the supernatural and the Derek-being-an-FBI-unsub issue to really stop by and visit Will, though they had undoubtedly been on the same campus - Will freshly hired as an instructor. He had been incredibly amused to find out that Stiles had been in Quantico only after the younger man was back in Beacon Hills, having successfully completed his program and elected to take a few years break before pursuing an official position in the FBI. 

And it had been one of the first breaks Stiles had been able to take ever since Scott was bitten at sixteen. Sure, he'd had a day or two off every once in a while where he didn't have to go chasing or running from one of the monsters of the week, but those days had always involved juggling school or researching on his own for their bestiary. But with how much the town had calmed down with the combined efforts of Stiles, Derek, Scott, and the remaining Argents, the months he had spent relatively undisturbed, relaxing had been a blessing. And it had given Stiles a chance to really brush up and hone his abilities as a Spark. 

While being able to dish out panicked bursts of offensive blasts and protective barriers in the middle of a rabid supernatural attack was nice, it was much more comforting knowing that his skills could be relied on consistently now. It was nice knowing that he didn't need the threat of imminent death looming to call on his spark abilities now. 

And oh - the things that he could do now.

Practicing his abilities and in turn becoming more in tune with his mental state had been a great help in shaking off the last bits of debilitating doubt and fear the Nogitsune had instilled in him during its possession. Although before, when Stiles would wake up shaking and sweating, frantically checking to make sure he hadn't done anything in his sleep, he would wonder if Will was always dealing with the sensations he dealt with.

If that great unknowing of who he really was haunted his older cousin too - the inability to tear himself out of his dreams and recognize whether he was awake or not... Stiles had a lot of emails left in his drafts to Will from nights like those. They sat there, unsent, for years. 

Will had confided in Stiles during his high school years about the details of his empathy disorder. While Stiles had always known there was something about his cousin that set him apart from the general populace and even from his own law enforcement peers, he had never really known what it was as a kid. And he had never really thought about it until high school.

But during one particular email correspondence Stiles had initiated after a panic attack, both of them had breached deeper topics that were usually left untouched between them. Stiles had rambled about his state of mind after coming back from Louisiana and being thrust back into the painful reminder that his mother was gone and his father still broken - how unfair it was that he had had to take on responsibilities like caring for his father and keeping the house in order. Things a ten year old should not have been made to worry about.

Will had written back about how sometimes he wasn't sure who he was when he woke up after particularly grueling cases. About how he was glad he was in a teaching position now, safer from the monsters in his head with the choice to stay out of the field. How the gore and rivers of blood had settled since his exit from working as an active homicide detective. They stayed in the files and slides he presented during lectures and only flickered behind his eyelids without his active need to analyze the information.

Stiles hadn't really understood. Not until the Nogitsune. Not until he himself experienced what it felt like to have his surety in his own identity and agency snatched away by dark thoughts and insidious whispers. Though Will would never really understand what brought it on, Stiles' appreciation and respect for his cousin had increased after that. Through their phone calls, texts, and emails, the two of them grew closer - more like brothers than the distant cousins most people assumed they were to each other.

The Pack heard mentions of the illusive Will Graham constantly and the few instructors Will spoke to on a regular basis at Quantico had certainly heard a thing or two about Will's hyperactive but brilliant cousin, Stiles Stilinski. 

Following the FBI internship, Stiles had done his undergraduate studies in Stanford, flying through the curriculum and picking up two degrees in just over three years. His dad had been ecstatic, almost vibrating with pride according to Jordan. Apparently, the Sheriff had taken to carrying around his graduation photo and showing it off to just about anyone who walked into the precinct, boasting about his accomplished son who had a position waiting for him at the FBI. 

But most importantly, Stiles had managed to settle down into a steady relationship with Derek Hale. Derek's betas - Issac, Cora, Erica, and Boyd - had always been more attached to him than Scott's pack had been, which resulted in him hanging around the loft more than he hung out with Scott. And from there, Derek and Stiles had naturally drifted closer, their relationship built on the foundations of trust they had established through the years spent turning to each other for help while surviving one enemy after another. 

Also - Derek was hot like burning. How the heck was he expected to have resisted that for long? And now three years later, they're still going as strong as ever if Cora's exaggerated gagging at their domesticity was to be believed. 

Even now, he felt a tingle of warmth coming from the pack bonds he had helped establish with his magic and he smiled as he typed out a message on his phone. 

_glad to know u arent too devastated with me being gone, sourwolf_

Spotting his bright red suitcase slowly circling towards him, Stiles tucked his phone back into his pockets and pulled the heavy luggage off the belt, making sure the privacy wards hadn't been disrupted. Satisfied with his quick scan, he jostled his way past the other groggy passengers when he felt the quick buzz of two incoming replies.

_Erica's despondent. Isaac's wearing some of the shirts you left with me and denying it._

_Also tell your wards to leave me alone. They keep zapping me when I pass through._

Barking out a laugh, Stiles sent a screenshot of the reply to both Isaac and Erica before requesting pictures of Isaac in his shirts from Boyd. He got a rude emoji from Isaac and several crying emojis from Erica. Boyd just sent him a thumbs up. Stiles also took the time to send out texts to Scott, Lydia, and his dad informing them of his safe arrival, relying on the fact that Scott would then let everyone else know. 

Rolling his shoulders to ease the tension from being stuck in his seat for hours, Stiles went back to craning his neck, looking for the distinct head of dark curls from the small gathering of people waiting in the airport. Spotting a waving arm, he broke out in a smile as he ducked and weaved over to his cousin. Stiles grabbed the other man in a bruising hug that had Will huffing in amusement. A few bystanders waiting for their own passengers chuckled at the two men. 

Stepping back from the hug, Will held Stiles at arms length, looking him up and down.

"Jesus, look at you. My little cousin's all grown up." 

Stiles rolled his eyes, "That's what tends to happen after fifteen years." The two laughed again as they started walking towards the exit, Will easily grabbing his carry on for him to ease some of his baggage.

"We'll have a bit of time to prepare for the first class and catch up, but no time to stop by the house and drop your stuff off. If you want," Will paused to fish around his bag for his keys as they neared the parking lot, "you can stay in my office and rest. I know you're supposed to be acting as a sort of TA for me and shadowing me, but you've just had a long flight. Besides, this first lecture's mostly going to be syllabus and introduction material." 

Stiles hummed in reply weighing the options, "I think I'd like to sit in. I want to get a feel for your lecturing style and at least introduce myself to the students before you really start in on any of the heavier cases and assignments." 

Will nodded as he popped the trunk open, gesturing for Stiles to lift his suitcase in first before depositing the duffel bag he was carrying. His older cousin quirked an eyebrow at him, impressed as Stiles easily lifted his behemoth of a suitcase into the car. Stiles had whined endlessly over emails about lacrosse training and PE classes but going through the rigorous runs with wolves as well as the FBI training required of him had honed his body. It also helped that the pack betas had pushed him to join their own workouts, laughing over his inability to keep up with their supernatural endurance and fueling his natural competitive spirit. As a result, Stiles had flown through the physical aspects of FBI training with flying colors and his dual degrees in criminal justice as well as criminal psychology had landed him an instant offer after his internship came to a close. 

And it had been a simple enough task to reach out to Chris Argent and weasel his way into a special arrangement with the Bureau while he had been negotiating back and forth about his working contract. With his widespread network of contacts, Chris had begrudgingly gotten him in communication with the head of the Bureau and from there, Stiles had scored his strange position. Being aware of the supernatural, the man had allowed Stiles a job as Will's TA and mentee. He was meant to shadow Will and learn about his cousin's methods of thought while also being on loan to help out on any supernatural affairs that may crop up on the FBI's radar. 

While he would have been content to function as a regular field agent in the BSU, the special arrangement meant that Stiles was able to fit in any spontaneous pack emergencies and fly back to Beacon Hills without disrupting his job particulars too much. And the FBI had been more than willing to negotiate something that gave them access to Stiles' rare abilities. The Hale pack was renown for their capabilities to anyone with an ear on the supernatural grapevine.

A win-win situation. It wasn't like the FBI was hurting for more agents on the field. And those with supernatural ties were rarely found in law enforcement anyways with those in higher positions limited by oversight and bureaucracy in what they could do. They would take what they could get with him.

"How did you even get them to agree to your job anyways? As far as I know, no one's done anything like this," Will asked as he turned his keys in the ignition, beginning the drive back to Quantico. Idling in the backup of cars waiting to exit into traffic, Stiles just grinned, winking as his cousin rolled his eyes. 

"I'm just that good, what can I say? They'll do anything to keep me on." And as much as that was the truth, Will would just take it as his usual blustering. 

"Is that why you're missing your toe, O all powerful agent?" Will murmured, smirking at Stiles' answering gasp of indignity. One mishap while trying to help Derek out and this was the teasing he got from everyone in his life. 

"We do not speak of the toe," Stiles hissed, eyes narrowed into slits as he stared his chuckling cousin down. "Besides, I'm just waiting for a chance to transfer myself to a San Francisco location. This is only temporary."

From there, the rest of the drive passed with Stiles talking about things he had been up to while Will hummed every once in a while, perfectly comfortable letting him carry on by himself. The shenanigans the large, combined pack had been through made for some amusing (highly edited) stories for Will. And though, if Stiles had it his way, Will would never hear about the specifics like being beaten by Gerard and his hunters, all the times he had spent in the hospital fighting for his life, or being taken by Ghost Riders and left forgotten by his family and friends, Stiles was happy to talk about all the in betweens. Those moments when they got themselves kicked out of the movie theaters, all the rowdy barbecues that had the cops called on them, or all the times the Sheriff had been called to their gatherings sighing in exasperation, made for great stories.

The drive took about an hour and pulling into the parking lot, Stiles grimaced as he became aware again of how... grimy he felt. God he really wished he could hit the showers before facing down a lecture hall full of hopeful agents. 

"Don't worry, I'm sure they'll love you," Will smirked as he noticed Stiles' face scrunched up in dissatisfaction as he sniffed himself.

"Well when they're faced with your absolutely sunny disposition and my winning charm, I'm sure it'll be sooooo difficult for them to choose who they'd prefer to go to for assignment help."

Barking another laugh, Will grabbed his laptop case from his backseat before stepping out of his car. Stiles popped the trunk open and dug around in his duffel bag for a couple seconds before yelling triumphantly and freeing his laptop bag from the mess of toiletries and unfolded clothes. He flailed his arms in victory.

"I can't believe you're an adult." Will dryly locked his car behind them, leading the way to his office and lecture hall. Stiles grinned as he noticed the eyes from early students hanging around following them as they passed quickly into the building. 

"You and everyone else I know." A group of students coming out of their own lecture hastily quieted while they passed by, eyes wide as they stared at the passing professor and his companion. Stiles smiled at them, giving a little wave. A couple of them flushed and ducked their heads, shuffling away faster. 

Stiles had heard the rumors and talk floating around the halls when he had done his internship stint. Professor Graham was a right monster, they said, whispering about his keen intellect and ability to immerse himself and find out about the criminals he had investigated. His unpleasant personality was a legend on campus. They warned younger students away from trying to stick around after lectures no matter how inviting the professor's cherubic curls and handsome face may be. There was no one more cutting than Will Graham when he was cornered and forced to sit through the thoughts and concerns of his students. 

Stiles had seen his cousin's page on Rate My Professor. Complete with a little chili pepper and average star rating. He'd snapshotted the funniest reviews and sent them to Will. 

And even though the rumors alone should be enough to dissuade people from taking his class, there was no doubt that the profiling class Will taught was the most educational and interesting class one could take at that academy. The last Stiles had heard, there had been quite the long wait list for it and once someone was in, they were loath to leave their place in the roster, even if they had to sort out scheduling conflicts. It was basically a rite of passage if you were aiming to join the Behavioral Science Unit. 

"But they were practically begging me to work as your TA. You've been busy terrorizing all your other ones away, so who's the man-child now?" Stiles teased.

Scoffing, Will unlocked his office and switched on the lights, motioning towards an ancient coffee machine for Stiles who only groaned in appreciation and beelined towards it. 

"Not my fault they think I was unapproachable and hostile." Scowling at the memory of his previous assistants, Will flicked through the letters deposited in his letter chute, tossing some in the trash as Stiles fumbled with the coffee pot. His younger cousin crowed triumphantly when the machine gurgled to life and the smell of coffee wafted through the small office space.

"Hey, their loss is my gain so no complaints from me. Bring me your most unapproachable and hostile. I dare you." 

Grabbing a cup for his own coffee, Will grinned. Stiles jostled his way closer to the coffee pot, not wanting the dregs at the bottom. 

"That's hardly going to happen and we both know it. Besides, you're supposed to be quiet while I lecture. I'll let you loose on them when it's time for questions. I won't help out then so let's see what you've learned so far." Raising an eyebrow in challenge, Will waited for Stiles to serve himself.

Cradling his hands around the precious cup of caffeine, Stiles sighed happily with his first sip. Just the scent alone was shaking Stiles out of his post-flight funk. He hummed as he tapped his index finger against the cup, smiling contentedly at the small buzz that ran through his body as he ensured his coffee would stay at a convenient sipping temperature throughout the lecture. 

"Your students won't know what hit 'em," Stiles waggled his eyebrows at the thought, "After they've gotten a taste for how I lecture, they're gonna beg for you to step down." There were a couple days in the syllabus scheduled for Stiles to lecture on cases he'd worked on during his internship while shadowing other FBI agents. He was still working on the finer details and the slideshow presentation which - no he hadn't packed it full of cheesy PowerPoint transitions but only because Derek had stared him down when he'd brought it up. Will had replied to that anecdote with a dry ' _I'll have to thank your boyfriend for that._ '

Stiles was low-key worried that introducing the two of them to each other would be a disaster. Only because he was convinced the two would get along too well and resort to communicating in grunts that only they could understand. Or trade facial hair tips even though he was convinced the two did absolutely nothing for their perfect stubble. Stiles was really bitter about the fact that the Graham penchant for nice facial hair seemed to skip him. He blamed his clean-shaven dad and his dirty Stilinski genes. 

Will nodded in agreement. It was rare enough for his class to have a TA lurking under the shadows of the projector. It was another matter completely for them to last long enough to get to the scheduled guest lecture classes. But Stiles knew that if anyone was going to last long enough, it was - of course - him. And while he watched his cousin grimace, probably at the thought of student misconstruing his presence as a softening on Will's part, Stiles knew that Will was glad to be working with someone he was comfortable around. Someone he wouldn't have to be constantly on guard with and who didn't care that maybe Will wasn't willing to stick to social niceties and avoid causing offense. 

Stiles had shaved the other man's hair as a child. They were way past the point of obligatory small talk and shallow compliments. In fact, Stiles was sure that a rare few truly got to see the Will Graham that Stiles got to witness. Others pressed too much of themselves onto Will, grating on Will's already fine control on his temper and ability to deal with people. Stiles had never actually witnessed how his cousin normally acted towards the general public so he was looking forward to seeing that. 

"Just as long as they aren't trying to get in my good graces," Will frowned, drowning the last bit of his coffee after glancing at the time on his phone screen. "Come on, we have a couple more minutes to set up." 

Stiles carried his own cup with him, slinging his bag back over his shoulder after checking to see that he had his notebook and pens in the front pocket as. Checking his own phone, he noticed some new texts sitting in his notifications and he grinned. God, he already missed his pack but he'd have to reply later.

"Let's get this show on the road." Flicking the light switch off behind him and securing the door, Stiles followed along, leisurely sipping at his coffee and snapping his fingers in an attempt to wake himself just a bit more. 

He wondered what interesting characters he was undoubtedly going to meet during his stint as Will's assistant.


	4. Chapter 4

Stiles found that mornings in Wolf Trap, Virginia were generally calm affairs - a novelty compared to all his mornings so far in Beacon Hills.

Between scrambling to stuff a quick breakfast in before rushing out the door, to picking Scott up, to just getting to school in time, or rushing out of the door to join Derek on is morning jogs, there was definitely something soothing about mornings that he had never had the chance to appreciate before. And this morning was an early one for the pack back in Beacon Hills, meaning he could catch a quick phone call with Scott while it was five in the morning for them. 

"So how are lectures going?" 

Stiles yawned as he dragged his hand through his hair, fumbling with his phone as his movements jostled it from its position on his shoulder. He and Will had another half hour before they really needed to get going to make it to their first class at eleven. Traffic was impossible in the mornings and Will already lived so far from the campus.

"Good, Scotty boy, they're going well. How's everything back home? Dad better not be eating any greasy diner food while I'm away." 

A huff of laughter sounded over the line and Stiles could hear another voice muttering something sarcastic in the background and he grinned.

"Tell Derek to stop his whining. I'll Face-time him later today when I've got more time to sit down and chat." 

Stumbling into the kitchen, Stiles cooed at the dogs as they crowded around his legs, excited whines rising in pitch as he reached for their food bowls. The fluffy bunch were definitely the top reason Stiles had for staying with Will in Wolf Trap. Even enough to sit through that two hour long commute. 

"Oh sure, talk to your best friend when you're busy and save your free time for your boyfriend. I see where your priorities lie." Scott rolled his eyes on the screen. "But don't worry, you'd be hearing from Stacey and your other spies throughout the town every time your dad had something greasy in his hands." He sounded amused as more voices shouted unintelligibly, no doubt from the other pack members stumbling in and trying to butt into their phone call.

"Hell yeah, I would." Stiles puffed up proudly. Scott laughed down the line. Hearing him sound happy and carefree loosened a knot of tension Stiles had been carrying for the last couple of days. Texts were one thing, but not being there for every little thing happening in Beacon Hills was driving him crazy.

"Besides that, everything's actually been pretty quiet so everyone's getting pretty antsy. Our luck is never this good so we're expecting something big in the next coming weeks. But we've talked to Satomi's pack and the other neighboring territories and the network's keeping an eye out for anything fishy. Plus, we've got your wards to warn us so we should be plenty prepared for anything that's coming for us." 

Stiles nodded absently, focusing more on portioning out the proper amounts of food for each bowl. Hearing the shuffling of feet down heading towards him, Stiles quickly transferred his phone back into his hand as he finished scooping the kibble.

"Hey, sorry man, but I got to go. Lectures wait for no man! Text me if anything happens before our next call, okay?" 

"Yeah, sure thing, dude. Tell Will I say 'hi!' And make sure to ask him if he's absolutely, positively sure I can stay with you guys when I visit! Hopefully all of this stuff will blow over before I have to head over there." 

Humming in assent and laughing at the increased chaos he could hear, Stiles hung up and carefully balanced the dogs' food on his hands and arms, nodding to Will who was walking into the kitchen rubbing his eyes.

"G'mornin'! Coffee's going. And I made egg white scramble with some sausage on the stove if you're feeling hungry! I've also got some fruits cut up in the refrigerator if you want to pack some up for later today." 

Looking bemused, Will replied, "You really don't have to keep preparing breakfast for both of us. Or lunch. I feel like your kid sometimes. Shouldn't it be the other way around?" 

"I'm so used to it with my dad and my friends that you better just get used to it too. I've become a horrible morning person. Besides, Will, you're terrible at taking care of yourself." Stiles' face scrunched up in distaste at the horrifying memory of some of the first meals they'd had in Will's house since the first night of his stay. There was only so much microwaveable meals and fish a man could take.

Shaking his head in return, Will portioned some of the eggs on his plate before popping some bread into the toaster. He hadn't realized how far off from the 'well-adjusted and responsible adult' train he seemed to have fallen from until Stiles' more elaborate homemade meals had become a constant. And while they still fell back on cereal every once in a while, Will had definitely noticed how better stocked his fridge had become. 

He had even tried to push his credit card onto his cousin for all the pricey groceries, but Stiles had just snorted and muttered something about "Derek's endless coffers" before rejecting any offers of paying. 

Besides, between the two of them enjoying full FBI salaries, Will's hobby of fixing boat motors for locals, and Stiles' mysterious side job, they were hardly struggling for money. Most people who met Will assumed he was low on finances, but Will had easily paid off his father's debts and his own mortgage payments with a few steady years of teaching under his belt. Growing up poor had taught Will to be smarter with his savings and investments and it had all - literally - paid off in the end. Now, Will lived comfortably without having to worry about money issues but it definitely helped that he enjoyed living simply. And Stiles seemed to be the same way. Both of them really only spent money on the important necessities and basics.

It reflected in how they both dressed for work as well. 

While Stiles managed to look casual and approachable, Will always made sure to dress professionally for lectures to try to further cultivate his distance from his students. For casual wear, the two of them combined had a veritable mountain of flannels between them. But what Will didn't know was that he received his equal share of dreamy sighs with his naturally dashing good looks. It had been amusing for Stiles to watch the wide-eyed looks his cousin had garnered in his comfortable sweaters, jackets, and ties during the beginning of the year, before his students experienced just how off-putting Will could be in a social situation. And he hadn't been blind to the lingering eyes on himself when he wore the FBI training outfit, the fabric stretching across his wide shoulder and showing off the ink on his arms - a rarity in the bureau. He was just glad that everyone in their classes had been mature enough not to try anything. Stiles chuckled as he tried to imagine how Will would react to someone's attempt to seduce their professor.

"What's so funny?" Will asked as he grabbed the the toast and settled down at the table with a cup of coffee.

Shaking his head, Stiles just huffed before changing subjects. "Scott keeps asking if you're sure you're okay with him staying over when he comes down here."

Rolling his eyes, Will leisurely ate his breakfast, patting the dogs as they huffed at his knees. Scott had been fretting over the same thing for the last month, always assuring Will he could find a hotel nearby if he didn't want to share his space with a stranger. He knew how private and withdrawn Will was with individuals who weren't family and he didn't want to intrude. 

"Tell him he's fine. He's basically your brother, so it'd be nice to house him. It's the least I can do in return for him attempting to keep you out of trouble while you two grew up." 

" _Attempting,_ " Stiles scoffed. "I was clearly the unstoppable ringleader in any trouble-making." 

"You really shouldn't sound so proud about that." Will quirked an eyebrow over his coffee mug, taking the last bite of his toast.

Seeing that Will was finishing up, Stiles brushed his hands off and turned to head back to his room to change before they set off. 

"You know me better than to say such a thing, Will." 

"Doesn't hurt to remind you."

-

The two had a comfortable rhythm during lectures. Will would basically talk at the students steadily for an hour without giving them any chance to ask their questions or pick his brain any more than the information offered in his slides. Stiles would sit at the table under the light of the projector, taking notes and grading papers. For the last half hour of the lecture, Will would stand back and let Stiles juggle the questions and discussions. The students enjoyed Stiles' levity and quick-witted take on the material, especially contrasted with Will's brisk lecturing style. Even the curmudgeonly instructor had to agree that his cousin had a flair for bringing out interesting and provocative points while effectively pushing the students to think beyond the confines of their established methods of thought.

Stiles had learned to rein in his impulses in wanting to interject and comment on some of Will's lecture points. And Will was thankful that his little cousin was thoughtful enough to hold himself back and not undermine the comfortable routine Will had managed to set up in order to make the whole experience as pleasant as can be for himself.

"Everyone has thought about killing someone one way or another. Be it your own hands or the hands of God. Now think about killing Mrs. Marlow." 

Will leaned against the podium, looking out at seats, eyes always focusing on chins, shoulders, lips. Never eyes. His mind flashing back to the scene of the murder he had inhabited. What he had _felt_ as the murderer. 

Though he would love nothing more than to be able to stare at the floor or anywhere away from the attentive eyes, Will was perfectly aware of what made an effective speaker and, unfortunately, giving attention to the people in front of him was an unavoidable part of the lecturing process. 

"Why did she deserve this?" As Will blinks slowly, he sees the phantom swing of the pendulum behind his eyelids. His hands twitched against the wood of the podium, feeling the phantom weight of a gun shooting - once, twice, three times. 

"Tell me your design. Tell me who you are." 

Grimacing imperceptibly, Will gave his finishing statement, warning his students on the depth of analysis he expected while the students gathered their belongings before filing out of the room. Stiles came up behind him to help him pack everything back up, patting him on the back for the interesting lecture even as he watched, amused, at some of the students whose eyes lingered on their professor.

"Remember you still have that paper from last week!" Stiles shouted after the retreating backs. He closed out of the presentation on the laptop before shutting the lid and disconnecting the HDMI wire. 

"Again, not an assignment I would have personally assigned, but as long as I don't have to read them..." Will mused, shoving his papers into his bag. He had been dubious while reading Stiles' assignment proposal about cases the students thought hinged on erroneous criminal profiles. Both men ignored the sounds of footsteps approaching, though Stiles did glance up at the approaching figure. And what an imposing figure it was.

"Mr. Graham." 

Will tensed up, hastily shoving his glasses on. 

Stiles continued to slide the laptop and wires slowly back into Will's bag as he watched the interaction, noticing how Will's glasses blocked his field of view, conveniently denying any visual access to his eyes.

"I'm Special Agent Jack Crawford. I lead the Behavioral Science Unit." They shook hands briefly, before Will continued organizing and putting away his lecture papers. 

"We've met." At this, Stiles huffed, a quiet sound of amusement that had Crawford's attention turning to him. He decided he should step in to at least attempt to alleviate some of Will's discomfort and divert some of Crawford's intense focus.

"Stiles Stilinski. I'm currently his occupational shadow." Sticking his own hand out, Stiles watched satisfied as Crawford took a step away from Will. Will's shoulders relaxed a bit as he was given some room from the overbearing man.

"Nice to meet you." Jack's smile was tight as he realized he had an audience that wouldn't be easy to get rid of. If he had been just a regular student, no doubt he would have been dismissed from the classroom already. Stiles sat back against a desk, deceptively relaxed. He knew how to tell when someone was angling for something and seeing as how most people avoided Will's office unless they needed something, Stiles was curious what a man like Jack Crawford wanted.

"We had a disagreement about the museum when we opened it." Jack chuckled at the memory, going back to addressing Will.

"I disagreed with what you named it."

"The Evil Minds Research Museum?"

Stiles let out a bark of laughter at Jack's reply. He remembered Will's grouching about the name over a phone call one night. 

"I thought it was, although a little tacky, a pretty funny name." Stiles chimed in.

"Of course you would," Will grumbled, "it's just right for your particular juvenile sense of humor. It's a little hammy, Jack." Waving it off, Jack continued, satisfied with just having established a connection and an in to keep Will in the conversation.

Stiles frowned as he recognized Jack's tactics and approach. Using his elevated position to discourage the brunt of Will's less savory personality and establishing a connection in order to keep him talking kept Will from lashing his way out of the situation in order to stay within bounds of professional conduct. Stiles had no doubt that if he hadn't been there, Jack would have physically boxed Will in as well. 

"You've hitched your horse to a teaching post. I understand it's not easy for you to be sociable." 

"I’m just talking at them. I’m not listening to them. It’s not social."

Cutting in when he sees Jack's hand moving up towards Will's glasses, Stiles smiled, "That's my job, actually. I'm the social one. Was there anything you needed in particular, Agent Crawford?" The three of them all knew that Jack was gearing up for something and he didn't appreciate Jack utilizing the rote method of trying to ease Will into it through banter.

He could see Will's displeasure in the tenseness of his shoulders - tight enough to look painful. 

The agent looks displeased at the interruption and subsequent needling.

"You can empathize with narcissists and sociopaths," Jack raises his eyebrow, nudging the conversation where he wants it to go, "Can I borrow your imagination?" 

Incredulous at how borderline rude Jack was being in his assumptions, Stiles scoffed. 

"He empathizes with everyone," Stiles gestured towards his cousin, hands coming to rest on the table behind him in an effort to keep from fidgeting in front of a man like Jack. His eyes narrowed as he continued, "not _just_ narcissists and sociopaths." It didn't help that he could feel the tight coil of energy flowing through his fingers in agitation. 

Furrowing his brows, displeased with the man who kept interrupting what had obviously been meant as a conversation between just himself and Will, Jack shed a bit of his affected genial manner.

"I'm sorry, but I believe I was speaking to Mr. Graham. If you'll excuse us, Mr... Stilinski, was it?"

Will huffed imperceptibly as he saw Stiles straighten up from his slouch. He knew now that Stiles was not about to back down from a chance to get on Crawford's nerves. Before his cousin could make the situation even more irritating that it already was, Will swung his bag onto his shoulder, taking hold of Stiles' arm on his way down the raised platform.

"Excuse my cousin, Agent Crawford. Email me about what you need from me and we'll go from there." Ignoring the way Stiles glanced over his shoulder, no doubt to smirk at the annoyed agent they were leaving behind, Will herded him out of the room. Students who had no doubt been plastered along the door in an effort to eavesdrop were scurrying out of the way as the two of them burst through the door. Stiles laughed and waved at some of them that he recognized even as Will pushed him hard down the halls, both of their feet keeping a brisk pace towards the car.

"I'm intimately aware of how much you enjoy getting on peoples' nerves, Stiles, but please don't push a federal agent onto my path. He's going to hound after me out of spite now." 

Humming in return, Stiles let his lips turn down in a frown at the thought of the agent.

"He's going to want you on the field. It's never just a consultation when you're involved." 

"Let me worry about myself, Stiles. I can handle it. And if I can help -- why not?"

Not reassured in the slightest, Stiles watched across the top of the car as Will fumbled with his keys to unlock the door. He had been in contact with Will during his stint in the police force, constantly poring over case files and going on site to get a feel for the crime scenes - he knew how... unbalanced Will could get. No one else seemed to catch onto it. They all seemed to assume that Will was just being his usual, unfriendly, slightly off-putting self. But Stiles knew. He knew what Will was like when he was healthy and he knew what Will was like when he was being overwhelmed by all the killers and violence crowding his head. 

Sensing his doubt, Will stopped as he unlocked the car, returning Stiles' gaze steadily. 

"Stiles. It'll be fine. We'll see what he wants and we can take it slowly from there. Like I told him." Intimately familiar with how fixated Stiles could get when concerned over someone's well being, Will sighed. He knew that nothing he said would take his cousin's concern out of the equation completely, but he liked to believe he could channel it to be manageable. 

Still looking displeased at the thought of working with Agent Crawford, Stiles nodded stiffly anyways and ducked into the car.

Rolling his eyes before also fucking in to sit in the driver seat, Will settled in for the long drive back home as Stiles began bemoaning the state of the papers he had already read and graded. Laughing at the most outrageous points, Will reflected on how glad he was to have Sties in his corner. No doubt Jack's aggressive social manhandling of their meeting would have gone completely against his favor if it hadn't been for him. He had heard about how bullheaded and upfront Jack Crawford could be so it instantly raised red flags when Crawford had taken the pleasantries route. 

Will knew Jack's type. Knew how he was sinking his teeth in, hoping to take a good chunk of meat with him if it meant he got what he wanted. He knew how men like Crawford thought and how they believed they could do no wrong until something unexpectedly bit them back.

He just didn't know if he'd be the one doing the biting back in the end... 

Or if he'd be at such a disadvantage that something else would inevitable bite back in his stead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I keep writing this, I can't help but notice how similar Stiles and Will are as characters. 
> 
> Both have conditions that affect their way of thinking (Will's empathy and Stiles' ADHD), they both wear flannels a lot, are underdogs, attract monsters, and surround themselves with a pack. Love that for them.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for how long this took! I'm starting to get to that point where I have to start making decisions about where this story is going.

The next day starts with a phone call from Jack Crawford early in the morning during their drive back to campus. 

Honestly, Stiles is astounded at the audacity of the man. 

While Will plans out the details of when to meet and go over the case details with the agent, Stiles sinks into his seat and kicks his feet up - Will shoots him a dirty look at that. Stiles grinned and stuck his tongue out in reply. But Jack was back to blustering and demanding an earlier meeting than what Will offered so Will rolled his eyes and glared heatedly back at his phone sitting on the dashboard, returning his attention to the conversation.

Listening to Jack Crawford's booming voice over the phone speaker definitely wasn't the best way to unwind before a full day of lectures ahead of them.

Grabbing his own phone out of his bag, Stiles tapped on Derek's name.

_ help. dealing with pushy, loud agents.  _

_ You're lucky I get up so early. _

_ are u just ignoring my first text???? _

_ I AM DISTRESSED _

_ I'm sure you can deal with it.  _

Stiles scoffs, pouting at his phone.

_ btwwww when did you want to Facetime? I'm free later today if all goes as planned. _

_ Today would be great. Call whenever you're ready. _

_ Erica will be glad to see you. _

_ awwww the pups miss me :'[  _

_ give em all a little smoochie from me ;] _

_ i can imagine your constipated eyebrows from here, sourwolf. _

_ I'm going on my run now. And ignoring you. See you later? _

_ love you, boo thang ;DDD _

_ .... love you too _

Smiling softly at his screen, Stiles glanced back over at Will to see him smirking over at him. He hadn't even noticed Will wrapping up his conversation with the agent.

"The boyfriend?" 

"Shut up," Stiles grumbled, crossing his arms as he felt his cheeks heat up. "What time are we meeting Crawford?" 

At that, all of Will's good mood disappeared, an angry scowl taking the place of the smirk.

" _ We  _ aren't meeting Jack Crawford.  _ I  _ am." Cutting off Stiles' instant noise of protest, Will kept talking. "After the noon lecture, you can take over for the next two classes while I go to his office and check over the case files he has for me. See if I can add anything they haven't been able to find yet." 

"Will, you can't be serious! I'm your good luck charm!" Stiles kicked his feet a little on the dashboard to emphasize his point.

"And it's just a simple case review. At least for now." Glancing at him with both his brows raised, Will turned into the parking lot. "I swear, if anything changes or anything big comes up, I'll call you and you can join us. But today should be simple." 

Stiles just continued to look at him, face blank for once. He didn't like the idea of Will going in to deal with Crawford alone. Sure, Will was smart and intelligent and completely capable of taking care of himself, but he was highly susceptible to being guilted into doing things that weren't good for him. He knew that Crawford was just doing his job to bring justice to the murderers running rampant, but he was also aware of the fact that people tended to lose focus on Will and how he may be affected by the work. And nothing grated at him more than watching someone use another without any regard for their well-being - wearing them down to the bone and holding them responsible for every single little mistake they could be blamed for even though the blame made no sense.

Stiles knew what it felt like. Having been overworked for his quick thinking and research skills while struggling through the aftereffects of the nogitsune possession or even his beating at the hands of Gerard, Stiles knew what it was like to be seen only for the benefits you might bring to the table. Everyone had seemed to forget that he didn't have the stamina and durability of a supernatural creature, and yet they had pushed him like one without giving him any time to recover or come to terms with any traumatic experiences. They took and took and took and gave the barest minimum in return - just enough to keep him attached and distracted into doing whatever they needed at the moment. Not that they had done it on purpose, but sometimes the bitterness still snuck up on him when the pack laid the majority of the responsibility on him and his research. 

He knew what it was like to be seen solely for your gifts and not as a person with any agency or any needs. 

"Just.. don't let him push you into something you don't want, okay?" 

Will sighed, resigned, and nodded. 

"I promise." 

They both watched each other as Will pulled into a parking spot. Stiles knew the look on Will's face meant he wasn’t budging on his decision to meet with Jack by himself. He knew that his fretting wouldn't convince Will otherwise. 

In the silence of the car, uninterrupted by the general sounds of morning campus activity, Stiles closed his eyes and nodded. That'd have to be good enough for now.

Before they both stepped out and walked in for the first class of the day, Stiles shot out one last text.

_ I'm worried. _

-

The first morning classes passed in a blur. Stiles was uncharacteristically quiet at his desk as he went methodically through the new papers handed in at the beginning of class. A couple of them were exemplary and he set them aside to show to Will later that night. Sometimes the two men liked to sit in front of the fireplace with a finger of scotch each, petting the dogs and going through their class plans for the next day.

The students took notice of the change and they seemed even more antsy than usual as Will went through his planned points. Usually, though his lectures invited no participation, Will was a master orator and his words were usually enough to keep everyone enraptured and focused. But not today. Both men were distracted, Will moved a little slower through his slides than usual, seeming lost in his thoughts with only half of his attention on the lesson, while Stiles didn't even seem to be paying attention at all. Sometimes he even seemed to forget where he was, tapping his pen in a distracting rhythm for a couple seconds before abruptly stopping and going back to scribbling on the papers in front of him.

Conspicuously, Will never seemed to take note of the obnoxious tapping. 

When the noon class came to an end, Stiles seemed to snap back to himself. As students shuffled out of the lecture hall, they shot furtive glances at the two figures left behind. Will was gathering his belongings as Stiles leaned back, folding his hands behind his head as he watched his cousin. 

"You sure you don't want to look for someone else to cover the classes?" 

Will tilted his head back in exasperation. "Yes, Stiles. You'll do fine leading the classes. And I'll tell you everything about the case when I get back." 

As the doors shut behind the last of the departing students, Jack Crawford stepped into the room with a self-satisfied air.

Stiles grunted in reply, throwing his hands up in capitulation before bringing his own laptop over to hook up to the projector. Ignoring the awaiting agent, Stiles huffed.

"You better hope the students don't hold a coup to have me be the permanent lecturer for the rest of the semester." 

Taking the olive branch for what it was, Will smiled and reached over to ruffle Stiles' hair affectionately. 

"They're too scared of me to do such a thing."

Stiles shook his head in amusement as he waved his hands in a shoo-ing motion at his cousin. He made a note to himself to stick closer to Will from here on out. His gut told him something bad was coming and he hadn't survived all those years in his hell of a town without trusting that twisting sensation in his stomach.

Maybe he was overreacting and maybe he needed to let Will live his own life and not breath down his neck, but Stiles was loyal to a fault. And Will was  _ family _ . Even before the pack, Will had clung stubbornly to the small group of three men that made up the Stilinski-Graham family. With the loss of his mom, it had just been Stiles and John. And while he loved his dad, being a family of two had been hard on Stiles. He missed the warmth and the certainty of always having someone there for him when he needed it. Even though it had just been one person, going from three Stilinskis to two... that'd been devastating in ways he had never imagined. It had certainly screwed him up in his youth enough to leave lasting consequences. 

But then he'd stayed with Will and Henry and suddenly his family of blood had been increased by two. And Will had been like the older brother he'd never had. They'd understood each other so well even with their considerable age difference that he'd clung to the comfort Will gave him. He always seemed to know what to say where even his own dad would stumble over his words, never quite saying what Stiles needed at the moment.

But not Will. 

Any concern or passing panic that Stiles encountered was always soothed away by Will's words. He knew just what to say to calm Stiles down or to help him work through something on his own. When others had trouble understanding him and his hyperactive, too-intelligent twists in logic, Stiles turned to Will either through the phone or through emails. 

And he in turn seemed to offer the same kind of comfort for Will. While Will had blazed through his work as a homicide detective, the periodic phone calls with Stiles, untouched by the horrors he witnessed in his own mind, helped to bring him back to his own thoughts; to ground him in ways nothing else could. Stiles would blabber on about his day, and Will would always stay quiet for the most part on the days where he was struggling the most. Stiles always knew when those days were, even before he picked up his phone. 

John had affectionately called it the Will-and-Stiles-ESP. And he'd been enormously grateful for the benefits the familial connection had reaped. While John Stilinski and Henry Graham had struggled to really understand their sons and the ways their minds worked, they were content knowing that whatever they were lacking in how they raised their sons and continued care, the boys had each other to fill in those missing gaps.

Anyone could see that Stiles and Will ran on different wavelengths from the average person. 

Snapping out of his thoughts at the slowly rising volume of chatter in the room with the next class walking in, Stiles shook his head and slapped on the biggest grin he could when he saw several students glancing at him in confusion. No doubt wondering where Professor Graham was. Standing up and walking around to the front of the table he usually sat at, he leaned back with his hands in his pockets.

"Alright, everyone! Listen up! Professor Graham will be gone for today's lecture. I'll be taking over for this class so enjoy it while you can!" 

At his words, the lecture room buzzed, as everyone sat up straighter. Excitement surged through the hall and Stiles grinned. Wait until he told Will how happy his students were to be rid of him for one lecture. Will had enjoyed ribbing Stiles about how many admirers he seemed to have among the student body after just a couple days of acting as Will's TA. 

Stiles had replied with a simple, "What can I say? I have a riveting personality and you tend to nuke whatever positive first impression the students have the second you start lecturing." 

Will had just chuckled in response. 

Clicking the button for the projector, Stiles turned his most charming smile towards his avid student. "Now who wants to tell me their thoughts on the Kepler case?" 

-

Sinking into the couch with a deep groan, Stiles ran his hand through his hair as two of the smaller dogs hopped up and settled in next to him. 

After finishing up the lectures, Stiles had stuck around in case Will finished up early before leaving with the car. He assumed Will would get a ride from Crawford or one of the other agents once they wrapped up their business but he shot off a quick text just in case. Traffic had been awful as usual and being back home had been a relief. 

Chimes broke through the silence of the house. Glancing over at his phone, Stiles grinned and accepted the call. 

"Hey, Sourwolf."

Derek's face swung into view on screen as he flipped the camera around.

"Hey, yourself. How were your lectures?" 

Stiles' eyes were warm as he looked at the screen, taking in Derek's crinkling eyes and generally satisfied look. Feeling the long day getting to him, Stiles murmured back, "They went well... The students have always liked me since I'm a lot more palatable for the general public. I feel bad for Will for the next class, honestly. They got a taste of what the classes could be like and they're probably going to be a little more restless for his next lecture."

Derek hummed in response and the two fell into silence, content to just watch each other. 

While Stiles enjoyed the life and routine he'd fallen into in Virginia with Will, he missed his life back home in Beacon Hills. He missed being there to badger his dad in person. He missed waking up next to Derek on the rare, quiet mornings. He missed making breakfast for everyone, followed by quick pats and nuzzles between the pack members to exchange scents surrounded by warmth and affection. 

Everything so far in Quantico and Wolf Trap had been so strangely normal compared to what he was used to. And while it had been satisfying for the first few weeks, he was starting to miss the chaos and constant activity of Beacon Hills. He wondered how he had lived before Scott’s bite dragged him kicking and screaming into the supernatural. 

"Anything new pop up?" Stiles shifted so that he could bring one of the dogs up and into his arms. 

"Is that one Jack?" Stiles nodded as he ran a hand over the soft fur and Derek continued on, "and, no. Nothing's come up yet so we're hoping they sensed your warding and decided to skip out." 

"Wishful thinking isn't usually your song and dance." 

Derek huffed out a laugh. "Guess that really shows how far we've come." 

Voice soft, Stiles replied, "You and Scott have done really well with the town and the pack."

He absentmindedly ran his eyes over Derek's pixelated features. His hair had grown out a little bit since he'd last seen the wolf, and his beard looked as scruffy as it usually did when Derek skipped trimming it for a week or two. Overall, he looked incredibly relaxed and content. 

“Couldn’t have done it without you, Stiles.” Derek’s eyes were serious as he said it and Stiles hummed in acknowledgement.

"Is that Stiles?!?" 

Stiles laughed delightedly at Isaac's voice followed closely by his signature head of golden curls popping up behind Derek's shoulder. His eyes were bright as he scrambled over to shove his face into the camera's visible angle. 

"Hey! Isaac, how's everything going over there, buddy?" 

"Isaac, you sneaky piece of shit! Don't hog the pack mom!" Erica's snarl broke through as her own head shoved into the other side of Derek's. Stiles just continued laughing as he watched the struggle going on on the other side of the screen. God he missed this too; how the quiet moments were absolutely shattered by one pack member or another. 

From there, the call devolved into chaos as soon they were joined by Scott, Boyd, Liam, and even Lydia who crowded the screen. Lydia took the phone and held it high enough where everyone was visible while huffing about what a mess the rest of them were, scrambling all over each other and snarling like animals. 

"When's Will coming back?" Scott shouted as he shoved Isaac's head down one last time, ignoring the answering growl.

"No idea. He went off with Jack Crawford, but I'm guessing something else popped up since he never made it back after lectures ended." And that brought a frown to his face. If Jack had managed to coerce Will into one visit on the field or to actively assist on any active case, Will would be more likely to be convinced or nudged back into active duty. With each "favor" done for the head of the division, he'd slowly be brought back into the fold before being pushed to his limits and used down to the bone. 

Things with the pack quieted down as they took note of his drop in mood.

"You said you were worried. Earlier this morning in your text." 

Stiles sighed as he leaned his head back, still petting Jack's fur slowly. Buster pawed at his legs when he realized the attention he was missing out on. 

"Yeah... Will's teaching job is really good for him. Gives him something stable. Academia keeps his mind busy from the case files, but going back on the field or actively consulting for active investigations and analyzing crime scenes would undo that stability he's managed to gain for himself."

"Are you sure it'll be that bad for him?" Erica asked, frowning at the thought of someone Stiles held dear being hurt in any way. Family of a pack member was family by default.

Taking a moment to think about it, Stiles answered slowly. "I've studied a lot on brain conditions after what happened to my mom. And with my studies in college, I've studied the intricacies of human psychology. What Will has? All those mirror neurons firing up at a level most people would never be able to comprehend or even manage? That can't come without any negative effects. Our human brains aren't meant to handle that much activity happening constantly. The only time he's able to rest is while he's sleeping - and even then that depends on his dreams. I don't know what, if anything, will happen to Will if he's pushed to keep it at the highest level of activity in the field, but I have a bad feeling about this. Besides any physiological ramifications, I know for a fact that the things he takes in from emphasizing with killers follows him into his waking hours and having that kind of disassociation between thoughts can’t be good for him." 

At that, everyone startled. They knew better than to ignore Stiles' instincts. There was a reason he acted as the second for both packs. With his assistance along with the strength of both alphas, the Beacon Hills pack had managed to really come into their own - even enough to gain a lasting reputation across the nation.

And when Will had been an active member of the police force, surrounded by tarnished minds and twisted mentalities, there had been a significant change in Will's attitude and personality. While he had never been the most jubilant of people, Will had always been open and good-natured towards Stiles and their small, extended family of four. The deeper he got into crime scenes and file photos, however, Will had withdrawn into himself. And while Stiles had been the main reason why long email chains would break between them thanks to his hectic life, during those years Will had been the one who would more often forget to reply. On more than one memorable occasion, Will had sent off emails that were half written and that ended abruptly if they didn’t ramble nonsensically. 

Stiles had never addressed it directly, knowing Will hated being coddled by attention, especially when it came to his psychology and his mental wellbeing. He had helplessly watched over their digital correspondence as Will had sunk deeper and deeper into a depression and paranoia that he didn't seem to realize he was sinking into. It didn't help that outside of specific instances, Will was perfectly functional and was even sociable in the work environment. 

When Will had chosen to wade into academia and had accepted the position at the FBI, Stiles had breathed easy. While he still consulted from time to time, most people left him alone to his lectures. And his lectures were based on past cases or cases he'd had no part in, which meant he no longer had to witness the scenes in person and immerse himself in that experience and his brain was allowed to heal from the strain it had been subjected to. Will had been an accomplished homicide detective - his case numbers spoke for themselves. 

"Hey... Everything will be okay. Nothing gets past you, Stiles." Derek's voice was soft but assured as Stiles blinked back at the screen. Everyone else on the screen had vacated the area, leaving the two of them on the call. Stiles shook himself out of his ruminating and smiled stiffly at his boyfriend.

"Maybe once I manage to shake this, I can come back home for a bit." 

At that, Derek lit up, his eyes crinkling with his wide smile. Stiles melted inside. Just a couple years ago he had thought Derek incapable of such pure joy. But the pack betas and Stiles had managed to stubbornly strong arm Derek into a comfortable life, complete with weekly therapy sessions that had done him a world of good. 

"That'd be really nice. The pack would love that and I'm sure your dad would be thrilled." 

Stiles hummed as he waggled his eyebrows at Derek, "And you?"

Derek only scoffed at his ridiculously smarmy expression and joked back, "Keep all your menace to Virginia, spare us all." 

Hearing the sound of a car engine pulling up the secluded driveway, Stiles perked up and looked out the window to watch a black car pull up. He frowned as he noticed just how dark it was outside. How long had Will been gone?

The door opened and Will walked in, steps slow as he threw a quick wave over his shoulder at the agent who had driven him home.

"Hey, Will." Derek's voice rang over the speakers through the otherwise quiet living room and Will murmured a greeting back. 

Noticing the state Will was in, Stiles turned back towards his screen and said his goodbyes to Derek with a promise to call him back at a later time.

Derek frowned at the view of Will shuffling around behind Stiles and nodded as he disconnected the call.

"Hey, cousin... You okay?" Stiles turned in the couch, resting his chin on the back cushions to watch Will's pacing in the doorway.

He took note of the light layer of sweat coating his skin and the way Will kept passing his hand over his face and air in agitation. His eyes were faraway and dark, staring at nothing even as a couple of the dogs pranced around his feet, tails wagging furiously. 

At Stiles' voice, Will seemed to jolt back to himself. Though he still seemed a little off his balance, Will turned to Stiles with a small grin. 

"Want to help clean Winston up?"

"Winston?" Stiles cocks his head, confused. 

Will only chuckles and gestured Stiles back out of the door. 

When he sees the stray dog on the porch, Stiles feels bad for the interior of whichever poor agent had been pushed into driving Will home. 

“I guess you had an interesting time?” Stiles laughed as he walked towards the shed to get the large basin out of storage. 

Will only shrugged lightly, avoiding Stiles’ eyes as he went about unwinding the hose and went inside to grab some of the necessary items for a dog bath.

“We found one of the girls tonight,” he murmured as he disappeared into the house. 

Setting the basin down slowly onto the porch as he watched his cousin’s back heading into the downstairs bathroom, Stiles frowned. Did that mean Will had tagged along for a house visit? A crime scene? 

“What happened to just looking through the case files?”    
  


“Look.. Can we just.. Focus on Winston for right now? I’ll tell you about it when we’re all done.” Will tiredly ran his hand through his hair as he shed his jacket on the way back out. He set the shampoo and towel on the ground as he crouched down and beckoned the dirt-crusted dog into the basin that was slowly filling with water.

Looking at the dropped slope of Will’s shoulders and his hands which were still shaking with tiny tremors, Stiles furrowed his brows and bit his tongue to stop his sharp reply. 

Will was his own person, he reminded himself. He could be patient.

“...Sure.” Accepting Will’s truce, he joined him on the creaking porch floorboards, rolling up his sleeves.

While he was willing to wait for the retelling of events, Stiles solidified his reserve in keeping a closer eye on his cousin.

If Will was already being taken alongside on an active investigation, he needed someone in his corner even more than Stiles realized. 

And god help whoever got between him and his cousin's mental well-being and comfort.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Leave me your thoughts in the comments, I'd love to read them! Let me know where you think this story is going. 
> 
> I'm curious.  
> You can find me on Tumblr as @ unfortunatefirenoodles!


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